Self Condemnation
by Celtic-Redhead
Summary: Ryou Bakura struggles with the guilt caused by events that he can't remember. One night it all gets a bit too much and when he tries to take his life, he finally meets the real soul that is at fault for all his problems. Rated for attempted suicide.


** Self Condemnation**

**Disclaimer: I'd be chuffed it I owned Yu-Gi-Oh! But fortunately for you lot I don't.**

**Summary: Ryou Bakura struggles with the guilt caused by events that he can't remember. One night it all get's a bit too much and when he tries to take his life, he finally meets the real soul that is at fault for all his problems. **

**Song for inspiration: Rihanna's song Suicide.**

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The glistening drops of water that fell from the dark, swirling sky began to blend with the salty tears streaming down his colourless cheeks. It had happened again, despite him doing everything in his power to stop it - to stop _himself_. For here he was, the only one left standing upright in the narrow, dark, dirt ridden alleyway, two unconscious bodies laying in front of him. He was certain their states had something to do with the brand new gaping black hole in his memory. Swallowing hard, he barely succeeded in reopening his throat to stop himself from suffocating on his own panic. This was his fault.

He was a monster, he was convinced _something_ in him was. His subconscious maybe, or some sort of mental disorder he didn't know about, a second personality? Whatever it was that hated the world, it managed to surface and ruin the lives of others, and he hated himself with a passion for it.

But he didn't understand, he had blood on his hands. Why did he have blood on his hands? Those bodies weren't bleeding, were they? They couldn't be, the water around them wasn't red, there wasn't a single drop of blood spilt anywhere in this raunchy alley as far as he could see.

But some of the ones before them had, they'd bled.

Blinking rapidly, he found that the blood was all just in his head. His hands may be clean right now, but there would always be blood on his hands, he couldn't get rid of that mental image of last time.

Drinking in the icy air, it numbing his lungs as if it wanted to help him rid himself of all feelings, he turned his shaking body away from them like he'd did so many times before, he didn't think he could face turning them over, finding out what was _really_ wrong with them.

Instead he wanted to run from the scene, but he stood petrified, contradicting his own wishes. He couldn't do it; he couldn't just leave them, and he couldn't continue to live with this guilt, that these peoples fates were brought forth by the actions of his own hands, even when he'd rather die than hurt them. Something would have to be done about him eventually, he'd be locked up in a prison or a mental institute, but he couldn't continue to get away with this.

Slowing and surprising himself, Ryou Bakura finally took a step away after what could've been hours of standing and staring, obeying the demands of the whispering wind; it told him to go, to leave, to get away. Even with his obedience, he was finding it almost impossible to breath with every step he took. He wanted to punish himself but part of his mind screamed at him, saying he was innocent. Another part condemned him to suffer forever, it wanted him to be punished. His gut was with the latter.

There was a crack of thunder, a flash of lightning, the sky was dark with the night having already closed in. He had to go home. He couldn't roam out here all night. He needed to think, figure out some more.

When he finally revived himself from his thoughtless state where he was walking for the sake of walking, he stared numbly at an old, neglected bridge leading to the other side of the city and came to a dead stop. His clothes were soaked through and his whole body was cold, numb apart from his chest where a warmth radiated. With wide eyes, a seed of an idea was planted, it was a way to escape his mess of a life, the mess that he was as a whole. He clutched the toasty metal under his shirt, not finding it odd that the metal was heating his hands. It was ironically comforting, for he had initially blamed the golden treasure for his blackouts, for his predicament. The blackout's coincided with the arrival of what he knew to be called the Millennium Ring, as his father had called it.

It was silly though, that had to have been just a coincidence, the object was harmless, all it was was a gift from his father. How could an inanimate object hurt others? He laughed at the ridiculousness of the thought, maybe he _was_ crazy? He pulled it out and held it close as he approached the bridge, hoping that his father would forgive him for what he was about to do.

He'd always wanted an explanation for his behaviour during blackouts, a reason as to why he was so messed up, but it was crystal clear that he was never going to get one now, he'd tried for so long, heading to therapists, having medical examinations. Not even the professionals could find a reason for it.

Standing behind the railings, a great streak of lighting illuminated the rusting, giant metal structure. He glanced over the edge, it was a great drop, but would he even feel it whenever he hit the water? He could barely feel anything as it was.

Lifting and placing a reluctant foot on top of the narrow piece of barrier, he gave a great heave and hauled his whole body upwards using a pillar of metal extending high above his head, and whimpered when his frozen fingers struggled to hold on.

The wind puck up, whispering for him not to jump, but all the while threatening him with gusty blusters.

He was terrified whenever he looked down, he couldn't deny that. In its own way, the action he was about to carry out would be justice for all those who'd suffered because of him, and it would prevent more harm coming to those in the future. This was for the better. He repeated that over and over again in head, holding onto his determination, summoning up all his courage, his bravery...

This wasn't bravery, this was cowardice he realised. It could be considered as an easy way out all his problems. Copious amounts of hesitation began to fester and it had him standing there for an abundant amount of time, wondering whether or not this was the right thing.

The Ring dangled from Ryou's neck idly, the metal now cold and empty of all supernatural forces as the albino leant forward to stare into the murky depths of the polluted river bellow.

A single moonlight-illuminated soul watched from the distant sidelines as it's Yadonushi continued to cast unsure glances into the strong current below, it raised a weedy morphed arm and flicked a hand, sending an inaudible instruction to the object it was bound to.

The Ring around Ryou's neck suddenly began to jingle violently, the spikes flailing and smacking off of Ryou's chest with quite a force before one of the tiny, sharp, pointed spikes pierced his chest through his shirt, the pain startling the poor boy into letting go, and Ryou gave a great screech, undecided and unprepared for the fall.

The ghosting soul laughed a cruel laugh, his Yadonushi needed to realise something, he needed to be taught a lesson.

Ryou squeezed his eyes shut, terrified, as he felt wind rushing through his long, jagged white hair, the freezing air slapping his face, gushing up his nostrils and into his ears. His heart thumped like it never had before. This was the end, and he rapidly concluded that he didn't want it to be the end after all, but his thoughts were as wispy and uncollected as the air parting to allow his downfall. He was sure of one thing though; that it was too late to reverse his actions now.

The falling sensation didn't last for long though, he came to an abrupt and jerky stop as something purplish flashed past his blurred vision and ceased his skeletal waist, resulting in a strange pressure squeezing and tugging at his midriff. It remained for a while and Ryou was unable to make out what was causing it in his disorientation, his head was spinning and he was seeing white spots from the explosive hysteria that had snatched his breath away.

When the pressure around his waist dispersed, a cold tingle began travelling up and down his raised arm that felt as though it were about to be torn from his body, his quickly registered someone had took his hand, and he could kiss however it was, they'd saved him from himself. He lifted a drooping head to try and glimpse his saviour, but could barely see through the white bangs sticking to his face and the pouring rain.

"I could just let go," a cold voice echoed from all around him, getting into all the nooks and crannies of his mind, it was raspy and unearthly sounding. "Would you like that? If I were to just... let go... like this..." and the grip on Ryou's hand loosened he felt the creeping of dread manifesting in the pit of his stomach. A horrible sickening feeling that this person might not help him at all.

"N-no! p-pull me up. Please, I'll do anything!" Ryou begged, trembling. To his relief the grip tightened. The hand wrapped around his thin wrist felt ever so strange, while his arm felt like it was going to tear off under the weight of his own body, the touch around his wrist was painless, frictionless, almost non-existent.

There was a cruel laugh. A deep, distorted, derisive laugh. "Are you sure mortal? You seemed so adamant to throw away such a precious life prior to your little tumble." it cooed. "Falling would fix your life, would it not?"

Ryou tried to swallow away the dryness in his strained neck as the sweat began to build on his face, he just wanted back up on solid ground, to clutch the tarmac and lay flat against it forever. "Please! I take it all back, I didn't mean it!"

There was a long moment of silence, the type of silence that makes or breaks a decision. Ryou then felt his body shift and felt the leaping of joy to see the edge of the bridge getting nearer. Soon enough, he was sitting on solid ground, gasping in relief, back pressed against the railings. Upon noticing his position at the edge, he scrambled away, keeping as close to the ground he could get. He settled for remaining dead-centre of the walking bridge, and stayed there until he had collected himself, reflecting on what he'd just nearly done.

The rain had stopped by now and the clouds had parted to cast an eerie, pale blue light over that part of the city. Ryou got to his feet and immediately searched for the stranger, but the place was deserted, not a soul in sight. "Hello?" he called timidly into the darkness. "Is there anyone there?" At the very least he wanted to thank the man for all he'd done.

He received no answer. He glanced to both ends of the bridge to ensure nobody was leaving, still not a soul.

Slightly unnerved that a person could just disappear, Ryou shivered and made way towards the end of the bridge. Maybe it was for the best, the person didn't seem very friendly anyway, with all that talk of letting him fall. At the thought, he felt something tap and brush past his shoulder. Ryou jumped and spun around only to find nothing. He stood still, very still, until the Ring jingled for the second time that night. That reminded him of something, _ the ring had stabbed him_. Tearing the string from his neck, he lifted the golden object to his face, eyes wide in both wonder and a slight fearfulness.

He dropped the jingling_ thing _with a clatter whenever a powerful gust of wind carrying the words _Yadonushi_ nearly knocked him off his feet, yet he did not fail in recognising that the spikes had now all synchronised and pointed in one direction. His unblinking, wide, swiss-chocolate orbs followed the pointers in the one direction they were facing.

He stiffened.

Right there, standing in the middle of the wide path leading off the bridge was a silvery being that definitely hadn't been there before - it was a ghost, a spirit, a_ something. _Whatever it was, bathing in the pouring moonlight, it glowed breathtakingly_. _It blocked the only route back to his house with tendrils of some sort of purple and black smog crawling around it. It was dauntingly beautiful in a way. Less incorporeal than the rest of the body, it's more fleshy eyes of burning red contrasted with it's shimmering whitish body and those eyes pierced Ryou's orbs, leering into every fraction of Ryou's soul, he felt like it was staring at all his deepest desires and darkest secrets. At this he shivered uncomfortably, feeling overly exposed.

And what was more, it was like Ryou was staring at a mirror of himself, only darker, edgier. The other him's hair was wilder and flowing, his eyes hard and hungry, his stance anything but weak, pathetic or recoiled. Ryou just stared, completely captivated. Was this his saviour?

Maybe he _was_ crazy after all.

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******If you're effected by any of the issues brought up in this story, or anything related to them, you should know that I'm here for you. I've been through it to some extent. Suicide is not the way to go.**

**I know that I'm terrible at ending stories. I have to practice that.**

** Angst, angst and more angst. I'm sorry if I've depressed you after all that, I really am. ****It was Halloween yesterday, HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN EVERYONE, and I got an itching to write something, and so this happened. Initially it was meant to be hella scary, like having Bakura be the possessive demon spirit like you get in _The Exorcist_ and _The Devil Inside_ and all those scary movies, but I began freaking myself out the _tinies_t bit. *Sighs* I'm such a wimp.**

**If this effected you in anyway, if you felt sad or angry at my terrible writing then let me know, point out my massive mistakes. All reviews, good or bad, will be cherished. **

**Thank you for reading.**


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